


His Majesty's Service

by SpaMightWrite



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: D/s, Humiliation, M/M, Master/Pet, Omorashi, Pet Play, Praise Kink, Public Humiliation, Urination, Watersports, assisted urination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4052305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaMightWrite/pseuds/SpaMightWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Randy's going to take a lot of convincing if he's going to come back to the Authority. Triple H has just the idea - Seth Rollins, at Randy's every beck and call. Every single one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another kink meme fill!! This one was interesting, but I didn't see anyone else bite... so here I am. Gonna be about three short-ish chapters.

Coming back to the Authority's side had its perks, for sure. Guaranteed protection from any interference during matches. A bigger paycheck. Job security like nothing else.

And this time, Randy Orton got something extra for his trouble. It seemed Steph and Hunter were pretty desperate to have him back, but he couldn't be swayed very easily. After all, they tried to end him just months ago. Randy was shooting as close to the hip as he possibly could, being deliberately vague whenever negotiations were going on.

“What would it take to get you back, Randy?” The text reeked of desperation. Boy, it made his heart swell to have his boss basically at his beck and call. What a reversal of fortune.

He was joking when he replied. He absolutely had no expectation that he would be granted this request.

“Seth Rollins begging like a dog at my feet.”

The response came rather immediately. “I'll see what I can do.”

“What?” Randy said that aloud, to himself, basking in the fading light of his hotel room balcony. He couldn't be serious. Seth was his little golden boy, the face of the company, the future of this business, supposedly. Yet he was willing to make the little bastard grovel just to get Randy back on their side.

There had to be some kinda catch to this. Had to be.

~

The atmosphere in the office was tense for some reason. Well. It usually was. Seth had come to expect it. But as he stared into his boss's eyes from the other side of the desk, he just couldn't ignore the weird little twinge in his stomach.

“So...” Seth ventured, hands writhing together in his lap outside of Hunter's view.

He spoke suddenly, drumming his fingers on the desk. “Remember these talks we have about what's 'best for the Authority?'” 

Seth chuckled and let out a breath from the space between his bottom lip and his teeth. “Yeah, just about every week. Why?” This was strange. He didn't like strange, especially when it came to conversations with Hunter.

“Well, what's best for the Authority, Seth, is having Randy back in our corner.” He was speaking softly, rumbling low in his chest like he was breaking some horrible news to someone very sensitive. “And Randy has a few requirements for coming back.”

Oh boy. His Money in the Bank briefcase? His car? His _dog_? What did this motherfucker want from him?

“Well. What's he want?”

“The exact wording was, 'Seth Rollins begging like a dog at my feet.'” Hunter shrugged, as if he were tossing away pocket change for this deal.

There was something in Seth's throat. Possibly his heart. Whatever it was, he swallowed it back down and croaked, “And... we're... gonna do that for him?” That twinge in his stomach only grew more tangled. It was doing something unusual to him – most specifically to his groin. He was far too nervous to pay close attention to it.

“You're just gonna do what Randy says for a little while, okay? Until his little rebellious streak dies down and he decides to cooperate with us.”

“Do... what... are you kidding?” His fingernails were digging into his own palms. “Th-This is Randy Orton. The Viper or whatever! He's gonna--”

“He's not going to do anything that would threaten his job.” Hunter seemed far more assured than he had any right to be. But he wasn't on the wrong end of this deal. “I know Randy better than just about anyone. He's gonna tread lightly, even if he is going to have the opportunity to humiliate you.”

Humiliate? His thighs tightened. His loins were doing that thing again, where he wasn't sure why they were feeling the way they were but it wasn't exactly painful.

“You'll be fine, Seth. Just go along with it for a few days and everything'll be back to normal, all right?”

“Yeah. I mean, yes sir.”

~

Seth sat in the passenger's seat of a rental sedan, staring straight ahead at the road in front of them. Randy held the wheel, glancing at his GPS every now and then, and saying absolutely nothing. And it was killing Seth. He felt like his head might explode if the silence went on any longer. His nerves were dancing on their tiptoes all over his body. His stomach threatened to eject itself from his abdomen.

Why wasn't this motherfucker saying a goddamn thing? Was he trying to kill him on anxiety alone? What the fuck did he _want_?

For that matter, where the fuck were they headed at he moment?

“Y'alright?”

The question came so out of nowhere – haha, Seth almost laughed to himself – that he gave a bit of a twitch before he could answer.

“Fine, Randy. I'm fine.”

“You seem a little tense.”

Seth could just hear that smirk in his voice. But he refused to give him the satisfaction of looking at him. Nothing about that statement was genuine, and he barely even tried to make it seem as such. That pissed him off even more.

“Can ya blame me for that?” Seth grumbled. He hadn't given him any orders yet, so he supposed he could get away with some sass before things got too intense. “It's not like I chose this stupid thing. I have no idea what's gonna happen in the next couple days and I have to spend them all with you...” He cleared his throat. “No offense, obviously.”

“None taken... I guess.” Randy let out a snicker, clearly even more amused now that Seth was expressing his frustration.

“God,” he huffed to himself. “Where the hell are we going, anyway? There isn't even a house show until tomorrow, what could you possibly--”

“Pet store.”

Pet store. PET STORE? What the--?

“The fuck are we going to a pet store--? Are you gonna make me eat crickets or some shit? That's not that weird, fuckers're full o' protein--”

Randy reached over and nudged Seth on the shoulder. “Of course not. I wouldn't feed my dog crickets.”

“You don't have a dog.” Somehow that was what bothered Seth about that statement. Not that, from the way Randy intoned, he was referring to Seth as...

“Well I do now!” He ruffled Seth's hair, mussing it up from its ponytail and forcing a frown onto his face. “Hunter got me one just this morning. And he's sittin' right here.”

Oh. So he meant... Oh.

Seth gulped.

Randy was giddy, if he was capable of such an emotion. Seth was looking down, his hands stuffed firmly into his jeans pockets, cheeks already red as they walked into the store. He hadn't even _done_ anything to him yet. That would change soon, for sure. But his embarrassment was already absolutely delicious.

He waited for Seth to catch up to him, noting with silent delight that he wasn't even paying attention to which section they were in.

“Geez, Randy, what the hell do you--” he stopped short once he saw what Randy was holding up for him. A dog collar. Dark blue with a belt buckle and a ring through the middle for identifying tags.

Well, fuck.

“Well?” Randy raised an eyebrow at him, that snakelike grin striking fear through Seth's heart like nothing else.

“Well, what?” He had to ask. He _had_ to ask. He had to make it more difficult on himself.

“Aren't you gonna try it on?”

“Randy,” Seth mumbled between gritted teeth. “There are people in this store.”

Nonetheless, Randy unbuckled the collar and offered it to Seth, undeterred. “Yeah. There are dogs in here, too. And the rest of the dogs are wearing collars, like good little boys and girls. Don't you wanna be like them?”

Seth bit down on his tongue and glared back at Randy, his ears absolutely burning by now. What had he done to deserve this? Besides betray his best friends in the business. And continuously make life hell for much of the roster. And try to end Randy's in-ring career.

A part of him probably deserved this. Maybe a little bit.

Regardless of all of that, why was he getting hard?

Randy watched Seth shift in his stance as he took the collar from his hands. That wasn't just general discomfort with the whole situation... There was definitely something going on down there. 

The Viper smirked.

Squeezing his eyes shut and taking in a gulp of air, Seth fitted the collar about his neck and buckled it there, hoping to whatever god existed that no one was watching them. Even though they were in a rather visible corner of the establishment.

He still couldn't open his eyes, but his hands fell to his waist, defeated. That was it. Seth Rollins, Mr. Money in the Bank, the undisputed future of the WWE, stood in public wearing a dog collar at the behest of Randy Orton. And it was making his entire body thrum with energy that he never expected from something like this.

“Hm.” Randy sounded far too pensive. This couldn't be good. “I dunno, Seth. I think... we should try another color.” He reached around Seth's shoulders and unbuckled the collar, depositing it back on the display hook. With one hand he selected a golden yellow collar with white polka dots and held it up for Seth to look at. “Yellow's the color of your logo, right? Should look nice on you. Let's see it.”

Again, his eyes screwing shut, Seth snatched the collar away from Randy's grasp and put it on. He swore he could hear someone snickering somewhere nearby. He didn't want to open his eyes to confirm it. He felt his neck start to grow hot underneath the banded fabric.

“Hmmm...” 

God dammit, not again.

Randy took that collar off as well, hanging it back up. Seth hung his head but looked up at Randy, trying to assess whether or not this could get any more humiliating.

Of course it could. Why the fuck couldn't it?

His temporary master selected a black leather collar decorated with two rows of flat silver studs. 

Seth demurred at the sight of it. He felt like his throat was blocked by massive amounts of cotton. His stomach did what felt like a Phoenix Splash into his ribcage. The half-chub hidden by his jeans was becoming far more visible to the casual observer. Or the not-so-casual observer, standing in front of him wearing the biggest smile he could remember having.

“Here. I'll put it on for you this time.” Before Seth could squirm away, Randy had the collar around his neck and fastened. “Wow, Seth... I think that has to be the one. Black looks good on everybody, huh?”

Almost out of instinct, Seth opened his eyes. And there he found his reflection, clear as crystal on the screen of Randy's smart phone. His pupils blown, his cheeks bright red, and the collar firmly affixed around his neck. He found his lower lip caught underneath his front teeth, nearly tight enough to draw blood. Fortunately for him, a large amount of blood had rushed from his head and down in between his legs.

Randy was staring down at Seth's crotch. No question... He had him. And at that moment he made a vow to himself. If this is how Seth reacted just to wearing a collar... Randy could easily get him to come without even touching him. And he would make that a reality.

But for now, he had a purchase to make. He took the collar from Seth's neck, picked out a matching leash, and strode off towards the front of the store, leaving Seth panting with his face in his hands.

“C'mon, Seth. Come.”

Fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again. Nothing I ever do takes too long. Not in any way nope. (I'm sorry)

Hunter thought absolutely nothing about booking one hotel room for Seth and Randy to share. They may have been top stars, but he certainly couldn't argue with saving money and keeping Randy on his side in one fell swoop.

Randy made sure to arrive early enough to check in himself. He liked to get a feel for a room on his own, if he could. Made it easier to keep control of any situation.

And he didn't want poor Seth to have to do anything without his Master.

It was late in the night before Seth himself arrived, clearly having spent some time at the bar given the way he smelled as he trudged into the hotel room. Tuesday was the night the roster usually would go out and party, which Seth often took advantage of. Randy had taken dinner through room service and spent his time waiting watching TV, and shut it off with the remote as Seth arrived.

“Evening,” Randy greeted, standing up from the bed.

“Oh, uh... hey.” Seth cleared his throat and looked away. He chuckled, nervously. “Forgot we were sharing a room. Sorry, I was just out with the guys, and uh. Lost track o' time.”

“Oh, that's fine,” he responded, disingenuous as per usual. “We wouldn't be able to do this before midnight, really.”

He watched as the pall fell over Seth, just as planned. His expression fell into concern.

“I uh,” he stammered, standing rather perfectly still. “I don't really... know what you mean. Do what?”

Randy picked up from the side-table drawer the collar and leash he'd purchased the other day. Smiling as Seth's eyes widened with anxiety, he walked forwards, the collar swinging on the end of the leash.

“Seth, you remember the deal, don't you?” He approached him, reveling in watching Seth prickle and tense up at his presence. “We've got a lot of work to do if we're gonna get you trained properly.”

“ _Trained?_ ” A gulp struggled down his throat. He was hoping this whole thing would have ended with just the collar, but that was wishful thinking at best.

Before he knew what was happening, Randy had reached behind him and buckled the collar around his neck. And then he was being pulled further into the room by the leash. He stumbled forward and dropped to his knees, too surprised and unbalanced to remain on his feet.

“Ahh, that's good already!” Randy exclaimed, turning around to pat him on the head. “Looks like you already know how this works.”

“I do _not_ ,” Seth protested as he started to get to his feet again.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him from standing. “What do you think you're doing?”

Seth huffed and glared up at him. “What, I'm not allowed to stand up?”

“You can. Later.” Suddenly he jerked the leash back, throwing Seth off once more and sending him to his hands and knees. “When we go for our walk later, you can stand up. Would you like that, boy? Wanna go for a walk?”

Seth huffed out an angry breath as he stared at the floor. That patronizing tone of voice was driving him absolutely nuts. He felt rage boiling up into his stomach, but sat silent and still. Hunter had been very clear about the deal they had. It wasn't for Randy, it wasn't for Seth. Hell, it wasn't even for Hunter himself. It was for the cohesiveness of the Authority, to keep it strong in the face of any opposition.

So he would endure this humiliation. He would get through it.

He would... for some odd reason, again, get hard at the thought of it.

Seth didn't have much time to think about it any further. Randy snapped his fingers and he found himself looking up at the noise.

“Let's see if you know any tricks first.” Randy was grinning. God, that was a fucking terrifying look for him. “Now, uh... let's see. Roll over, Seth.”

With a heavy sigh, Seth fell to his side on the carpet and rolled onto his back, his stomach exposed to whatever it is Randy would decide to do to it. Surprisingly, it was a gentle rub of his hand under his shirt, making his bare skin tingle. The sensation was honestly far too enjoyable, as was the sentence that came out of Randy's mouth a moment later.

“Oh, good boy. Wasn't that easy?”

Seth couldn't tell if that was meant to annoy or arouse him. Because it was doing both.

“I-I guess, yeah,” he mumbled with his eyes boring into the wall.

“Good. Let's try another... Speak.”

Seth cringed and swallowed as much of his pride as he could stomach. “Woof,” he all but whispered.

“Hm? What was that, Seth?”

“Woof.” That time was a bit louder, but still exasperated. It was difficult to muster any enthusiasm for it when he was lying on his back at the behest of someone who had been such a thorn in his side.

“Oh, come _onnnn_ , Seth!” Randy drawled. “That didn't even sound like a dog. Now you better do this right, or I'm gonna let Hunter know what a bad little pup you've been.”

The sound of his boss's name shot a pang of fear through him. He couldn't disappoint Hunter. Not when everything was looking up for him.

He shut his eyes tight and barked, quick and sharp, imitating the sounds his own dog made whenever he walked in from a long stretch of a tour. It startled him how authentic it sounded. His eyes popped open, wide and nervous, to see Randy smiling down at him.

“Now that's better. What a good boy, huh?”

His thighs drew closer to his torso as blood rushed down to his groin. This shouldn't be as arousing as it was. He hoped Randy wouldn't notice.

Of course he noticed.

“You like that? Good.” Randy snapped his fingers again. “Up, on your feet.”

Seth scrambled upright, his cheeks flushing and starting to sweat under his jacket. He started to strip it off, but was interrupted.

“I'd keep that on if I were you.” Randy retrieved his own jacket from the hook on the door and slipped it on, trading the leash from hand to hand as necessary. “Time for a walk.”

A walk. A walk? 

“W-What do you mean, Randy?”

“Don't play dumb, Seth. We're going outside for a walk. Gotta keep my pup healthy, don't I?” With no further explanation or warning, he dragged Seth by the leash out of the hotel room and down the hallway.

Seth had no choice but to follow, his legs carrying him far beyond where he ever expected to go that night. His eyes darted about, his head turning back every now and then to see if anyone was there. He was actually doing this. He was taking him outside, on a leash, in public, on a _leash_. For fuck's sake. All he could do is hope nobody he knew would spot them on the street.

A lump started forming in the middle of his throat as he considered the possibilities. His heart started pounding in his neck. Breaths panted forth like he'd just run a mile. 

And what was worse? Those drinks he had at the bar were starting to catch up to him. His bladder was full, taut against his lower stomach, the urgency heightening his anxiety even more.

Fuck. What could he do now? He obviously couldn't tell Randy about it. There was no telling how he'd react. Or what he'd make Seth do to make the experience that much more embarrassing. So he stayed quiet, taking measured gulps of air and trying desperately not to step too quickly and jostle his bladder any more than necessary.

They entered the elevator alone, to Seth's relief, and made it to the lobby with no incidents. Randy stuffed his hands into his pockets as he stepped out with Seth in tow. Seth held onto the front of his neck in an effort to stop the tag from jingling too loudly.

He avoided any eye contact with staff, which were sparse, but still present. He had no idea if they'd seen them for that reason. He chose to believe they hadn't.

They were out in the cool night air just moments later. Seth felt a shiver go through his stomach, at the cold and the twinge that it sent to his bladder. There wasn't anyone out wandering the streets. There may have been a few smoking outside of bars, but they were fully wrapped up in themselves and too far away to pay much attention.

He realized he'd been standing entirely still and stumbled when Randy began leading him away from the hotel doors. How far was he planning on taking him? Both from the hotel and in this... thing they were doing?

They strolled down the sidewalk, Randy looking as relaxed and loose as a person could be, as if he were on vacation. Seth, in contrast, was taking the smallest steps possible, his shoulders hunched forward in an attempt to hide the collar around his neck. Obviously this did nothing to conceal the leash connecting him to Randy's hand, but it was all he could do.

They made their way across the street, thankfully out of sight from any passing cars, and onto the path of a nearby park. Crickets chirped in the distance, the only sound besides their footfalls and the distant hum of the city streets. Silent but for their breath, Randy led him into the center of the area, where he sat on a bench.

Seth made a move to do the same, but was interrupted by another snap of Randy's fingers.

“Ah-ah. No dogs on the furniture.”

He swallowed down the string of obscenities lapping at his teeth and sighed. Seth didn't mind standing for a little bit, he supposed. Better than--

“Sit.”

God dammit.

Without complaint, Seth lowered himself to the ground at Randy's feet, squatting down and putting his hands on the pavement in front of his hips for balance. Bad idea – it only added pressure to his bladder, which forced out a gasp that he didn't have time to contain.

“Seth? What's wrong, huh?” Randy placed a hand on the top of his head and ruffled his hair.

Under different circumstances he would find this utterly patronizing and infuriating. But all he could focus on at the time was holding back his fluids from escaping in a truly humiliating fashion. He was loathe to say anything about it. His mind raced to put words to the lie he wanted to tell him. Maybe his hamstring was still a little sore from the tapings, maybe he got a sudden chill.

“Oh, I think I know what you need.”

No. No. Whatever it was he was going to say, Seth would deny it out of hand.

“You gotta take a piss, right? After all that time at the bar, you have to be feeling it by now.”

“No!” Seth snarled indignantly. 

Randy stood and started walking again, but Seth stayed rather put. Except Randy didn't seem to notice, or care, and kept walking until the leash was taut and pulling at his neck. Seth had no choice but to stand and grasp the leash with both hands, himself.

“C-Come on, I'm fine, I don't have to--” Suddenly his bladder spasmed, being so full that just that amount of effort put into something else made it nearly let go. His hands whipped away from the leash and down in between his legs before he could stop himself. The twinging stopped, but that only caused another problem. 

He looked up at Randy, his face burning hot enough to draw tears in his eyes.

Randy was smirking again. He knew exactly what that bastard was thinking. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Seth,” he scolded with a gentle tug of the leash. “I don't want you making a mess in the hotel room. So let's go.”

And they started off, away from the path and towards a hedge. Randy was controlling when he moved, where he walked, what he did... and now he wanted to control his bladder. Just perfect.

So why was he getting hard again?

His heart gave way to palpitations as he walked in a dreamlike state behind Randy. He was getting off on this. He was actually enjoying being ordered around like a dog, dragged wherever his master pleased, completely and utterly humiliated. And he couldn't deny it any longer, not when blood was rushing to his groin at the thought of having to piss on command.

Again, god dammit.

They reached the hedge, which covered Seth only from the hips down. Randy nodded towards it. “Well? Go ahead. We don't have all night, Seth.”

Seth stepped forward, his eyes shut tight. He was doing this. He was actually fucking doing this. His fingers shook as he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, which tingled at the head for relief. It shouldn't have been difficult – he was full to the brim and aching to unload it. But, as would happen rather often, it just... wouldn't come out. 

He whined. He hadn't meant to, but he couldn't help it.

“What's going on back there?” Randy asked, turning to look at him. He observed Seth struggling with himself, bouncing lightly on his feet, trying to will himself to let go.

“I...” he whispered through his teeth. “Sometimes I can't... go... in front of other guys, all right?”

“Well you're gonna have to.”

Before he could ask, Randy had come up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. Seth struggled, more out of surprise than anything else, but had to be still when Randy put his hand over the one holding his cock. A storm of vulgarities was raging in his head as Randy placed his other hand underneath Seth's shirt and over his bladder.

He barely had to press down, in spite of Seth's protests that rang out into the night air, before he had no choice but to let go. 

Seth didn't even feel it at first. All he knew was that he could hear a stream hitting the ground and Randy chuckling in his ear. Then he opened his eyes. 

His half-hard cock was releasing at full capacity, the flow thick and unstoppable. The leaves shone with the droplets landing on them, dripped heavy with his relief. Between the branches he could see the puddle forming and soaking into the earth. It was only then he started to feel himself emptying. He let out a relaxed sigh and leaned his head back against Randy's shoulder.

“Good boy,” Randy mumbled to him, stroking his hand gently.

“Fuck,” Seth moaned. It felt good to hear that. It felt so damn good to let go of everything. Not just his bladder, but his inhibitions, his shame, his tension with Randy. For those moments that he was pissing in a public park, in view of anyone who might have passed by at the time, none of it bothered him. 

He finished within the minute, and he was surprised to see such a large puddle at his feet. Had he really drunk that much that night? And he actually planned on holding it until they got back to the hotel room. That would have ended in disaster.

He shook himself off, watching the droplets leave ripples in the pool below, and let out a sigh as he put himself away. His cock had just barely made it back behind his jeans and underwear before it began hardening to the fullest.

And Randy could tell, easily, by the way Seth was panting into the night air and trembling.

It was only his nature to take advantage of an opportunity.

“What a good boy, Seth,” he growled into Seth's neck, his breath puffing warm against his skin. “What a good boy for me, huh? So good, you went right when I told you to. And outside, right where you should be going. In front of anybody who might happen to be around. So proud.”

Fuck. He'd exposed himself to the whole park, done something so humiliating and private in full view of the entire world. He was on a leash being pulled around by another man. He was so fucking hard and throbbing as a result of all of that.

Seth couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop the thoughts swirling around his head, the people that might have seen, how they would laugh at him for doing something so shameful. Dirty. 

Embarrassing.

He gasped all of a sudden, feeling his balls tighten and his stomach tense up. Randy's body was so close to his, his hand was on his thigh, he was breathing against his ear. 

Fuck.

_Fuck._

FUCK.

Seth's cock pulsed and throbbed and suddenly released something else in his jeans, making the crotch of his boxers damp and sticky. His whole body shuddered in ecstasy as he suddenly came right there in the park as he stood in front of Randy. His thighs went limp and he covered his mouth in an attempt to hold back his moans. He clutched his groin as it finally stopped twitching, feeling the moisture sticking to his skin.

“Wow.” Randy stood back, taking in the sight. Seth Rollins, the undisputed future of the WWE, doubled over from orgasm in public.

Randy didn't even have to touch his dick for him to get there.

Moments later, he led Seth away from the park and back to the hotel, grinning at the discomfort with which he walked behind him, the glare on his face as he stared at the ground in front of him.

The thought crossed his mind – could he get him to do that again? In broad daylight? In front of others?

On live TV?


	3. Chapter 3

Randy's orders were clear. And at this point he was in no position to argue with them. 

Seth was so deep into it that he didn't even want to argue.

So wrapped up in how easily Randy could turn him on with just a word or a touch on the back of his neck. Randy could brush his fingers against the nape of Seth's neck, as the subtlest reminder of their little arrangement, of the restraint that brought him to his knees at Randy's feet; Seth would start hardening instantly. 

It had barely been a week since this whole thing started. Just a week between Seth's life before the collar, and his life after. Such a short time to wedge himself completely under Randy's thumb.

It was something he tried to think about. Give some real, intense thought to. But too often he thought too much about exactly what Randy would do to him, and then the blood would rush out of his brain. 

At that point, there was no chance of actually giving it serious consideration.

Especially that morning, before a live Raw broadcast, when he woke up to a text from Randy. Seth felt his loins react before he could even give thought to the implications.

“Hold it until we both get to the arena. Like a good boy. Wait for me in your locker room as soon as you can get in there.”

Seth couldn't help but swear aloud into the empty air of his hotel room. The text came in at three in the goddamn morning, meaning Randy waited until Seth was going to be completely conked out asleep to send it. To make sure he didn't get up earlier than he could message him. 

Of course, to make sure he didn't even have time to take his morning piss.

Of course, he wouldn't even be there for another few hours. 

Of fucking goddamn course.

Seth resisted the urge to throw his phone across the room and settled on grabbing a pillow and throwing it at the wall. The muffled thumping sound was wholly unsatisfying to his anger. 

But he had to be honest with himself as he sat up and quickly sent a reply to Randy, just a simple “got it” and nothing else. He was already hard, in more than one way. He reached down and felt his lower stomach, finding it a little distended and his bladder firm against his touch. The bulge in his sweatpants was obvious just from looking. 

He was anticipating that afternoon just as much as he was dreading it. There was some duality of man nonsense in there somewhere, but Seth was far too frustrated to give it any real consideration. It wouldn't have done him any good, either way. It didn't matter why or how this all happened.

Seth was going to listen, he was going to obey, he was going to be good.

But first, he was going to get breakfast, and skip his usual two cups of coffee. He was already in enough trouble as it was. His bladder was already pretty full, certainly. But he wasn't in danger of leaking quite yet.

And that would change unless he took the right measures.

If he could pride himself in anything, it was quick thinking. He stripped off his sweatpants and went to his suitcase, digging through to find his compression shorts. It was hardly life-changing. The shorts wouldn't do very much to stave off his urges, but he would take any small thing he could get. His bladder pressed painfully against the waistband of his skinny jeans as he pulled them on, groaning as he struggled to button them. 

He'd be cutting it close. Closer than he had in quite a long time. He spent far too many hours squirming and begging for a rest stop when he and his friends were hurrying across entire states to make shows. There had been some very close calls, and a few disasters he had to threaten far too many people never to speak of again. He wondered how Dean never thought to bring that up last year, when their rivalry was at their most intense. He and Roman were witness to some truly humiliating measures.

But feeling the relief of so much pent-up tension was not something he would soon forget, especially when it was paired with warmth in both his pants and on his cheeks.

Joey and Jamie came looking for him not ten minutes after Seth awoke, toting his usual order from Starbucks and both being far too chipper for how early it was. He accepted the sandwich but waved off the double-shot nonfat cappuccino, insisting that he wasn't thirsty and that his boys could share it or toss it or fight over it or whatever the fuck they wanted to do with it.

He didn't care. There were far more important matters on his mind, such as how long it would take to get to the arena, if Randy would even be there when he arrived, how many meetings and quick chats he would have to get through before he was allowed to go to his dressing room.

His odd mood was fairly clear to Joey and Jamie. But the both of them knew far better than to ask, no matter how confused they were when Seth growled at the bathroom door as they left his hotel room.

Seth knew that he likely pissed off even more people at work than usual that day. Not that they could do anything about it, given his status in the company. But he found himself snapping at nearly everyone, striding quickly but gingerly through the halls and blowing off whatever conversations he could possibly afford to not have. 

The compression shorts helped, at least one small bit. At the very least they prevented him from needing to cross his legs or hold himself at all times. But he was still bouncing on his toes whenever he was forced to stand still, his hands fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt, chewing on his tongue. 

The pressure built slowly but steadily, even though he avoided drinking anything that morning. By early afternoon, when he was finally allowed to go to his private dressing room, his mind was consumed with his need. 

Seth breathed a sigh of relief as he made it to his dressing room and opened the door, finding Randy already waiting for him. The other man was sitting on the bench and placidly looking at his phone, dressed in street attire, his stupid skull tattoos and stupid skull t-shirt mocking Seth from the corner.

Though he hated to admit it, Seth was far more at ease to be there with Randy. He knew he wouldn't try anything with this many people around. At the very least, he probably wouldn't have to piss outside this time, though he imagined Randy would be dictating when and where it would happen inside that locker room.

At least there was a bathroom there.

“Oh!” Randy chuckled as he looked up from his phone. “I was wondering when you'd show up.”

Seth rolled his eyes, his relief at seeing Randy already morphing into irritation as he locked the door behind him. “Yeah, I had some meetings to go to. I'm assuming you weren't required to go.” Seth dropped his duffel bag on the bench and hung up his garment bag on the hook, squirming just a bit on his feet as he slipped his shoes off. 

“Bit of a break never hurt anyone.” That smirk on his lips, the way it didn't show in his eyes even one bit. Smug fucker.

Whatever. Seth was hardly in the mood to argue with him. The tip of his dick was aching, the button of his jeans was pressing against his stomach. Seth let his hand squeeze around his crotch for a brief second, avoiding eye contact as he did so. There didn't seem to be any use in hiding it – Randy made this happen, it was only a matter of time before he realized just how badly he needed relief.

Might as well get that part over with.

“Gotta go, boy?”

Seth just about whirled around and punched Randy in the face. And he would have, if he didn't have his job to worry about. And his pants. 

“Gee, whatever gave you that idea?” Seth growled over his shoulder. He unzipped his duffel bag and started rummaging about for his gear, squeezing his thighs together every few moments. “By the way, I'm gonna go ahead and draw the fuckin' line at pissing myself on live national television. Pretty sure Hunter would kill us both for that, unless I severely misjudged our demographic.”

Randy laughed, as if it hadn't ever crossed his mind. Seth didn't believe a single sound that came out of that man's mouth but he was hardly in the position to call him out on it.

“Don't worry.” 

Seth wanted to laugh at that, but he was far too desperate to let himself. He felt like even walking the wrong way would end the whole thing. 

“I'm actually going to let you use the toilet this time. Before the show starts.” 

Oh, thank fuck. Seth breathed a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. This nightmare would be over soon, at least. “Lemme guess,” he said, suddenly remembering who he was dealing with. “Gonna make me wait right until I have to go out, right?”

Randy put a hand on the back of Seth's neck, squeezed him gently, and shook his head. “Nope. We're going right now. Because you've been such a good boy and you held it all this time.”

“What's the catch?” No way it could be that easy. Absolutely no way.

“You'll see.”

“Okay. Okay, fine, sure, let's go.” Whatever. What the fucking goddamn fuck ever. Seth was about to explode if he wasn't allowed to go within the next five or so minutes, and hearing that relief was just moments away – he didn't care what he had to do.

“Jeans off, same with the shirt,” Randy ordered. 

Didn't have to ask him twice. Any part of Seth's body was old news even before this thing started. Seth ripped his shirt off and folded it as quickly and shoddily as possible before leaving it on the bench. He then loosened his belt and let out a sigh as some of the pressure let up from his bladder. His jeans were off in less than five seconds after that, and joined his shirt on the bench after he folded them, too.

With nothing on but a pair of socks and his compression shorts, Seth awaited further instruction. 

Randy nodded and started walking Seth over to the bathroom, slowly, deliberately. Normally Seth would have wanted him to hurry it up, but he was hardly in the mood to jostle himself any worse than he had. It wasn’t far, either. 

Just a few more steps and it would be over. He would do whatever Randy said and get his bladder emptied and get on with his life.

Why the fuck would ever it go that easily?

Seth was in front of the toilet, the tile cool against his feet even through the fabric of his socks. It was right there, relief was literally inches from him. It seemed presumptuous, maybe, but he reached for the waistband of his shorts in preparation. As long as he didn’t pull them down without permission…

“Okay. Go.”

“Thank god,” Seth gasped, scrambling to get his dick out from behind the spandex, but stopped when he heard the click of a disappointed tongue in his ear.

“Now, now. I didn’t say you could pull that out.”

Oh.

So that was the catch.

Seth swallowed and found his mouth trembling, for so many reasons that he was unable to put words to. He’d have to… with that on… and… through…?

“H-How… am I s’posed t--?”

“You’re the architect,” Randy snickered, draping his arms around Seth’s shoulders and leaning his chin on one of them. “You figure it out, Seth.”

There was absolutely no time to waste, or think. All he could think at that point was to do what he always did at times like this. He bit his lower lip and adjusted his dick as best he could within the fabric, trying to find the best way to go about minimizing the damage. But in all of his panic, he found that he leaked a thin jet of urine into his shorts before he could stop it. It warmed the front of his crotch and dripped to the floor, the fabric darkening and shining in the fluorescent lights overhead.

“Fuck--” Seth squeezed his thighs together for a moment, trying to get a hold of himself. But it was dribbling out already, the stream bubbling through the fabric and landing against the toilet seat in a light pattering noise. There was no stopping it now. There was only one thing he could do at that point.

Seth pulled the fabric as tight as he could with one hand, and with the other held his dick as far forward as the fabric would allow – which was not very much at all, as it turned out. With that, he let the dam break.

It sprayed out in a few different directions, the stream broken by the fibers of his shorts, much of it splashing into the toilet. The rest that made it out through his shorts was in thin little rivulets splattering onto the toilet seat, the floor, Seth's socks. And moments into it, even as he breathed out his relief and felt himself emptying quickly, he felt the warmth run down his hand and down his legs as well. 

He swore again, letting go of himself as he felt his hand get soaked. But the flow hadn't stopped for a moment, barely even slowing as he panicked. Awkwardly, he shuffled forward, at least finding that Randy followed him. In a moment he was straddling the toilet and resting his hands on the tank cover, bent over and blushing madly as he relaxed.

He still felt it run down his legs, he heard it splattering into the water and onto hard tile. But the relief was so overwhelming that he didn't care anymore. Seth moaned like he was bent over for an entirely different reason, high and desperate in his throat, his head swimming. He felt Randy's breath on his neck, the vibration of his chuckling, which he could barely even hear over the sound of his release.

It was over soon. Sort of. Inasmuch as his bladder finally emptied, with one last dribble making the fabric shine for one final moment before it dripped into the water. 

“God.. damn...” Seth whimpered, vaguely realizing he was getting hard, and fast. It was so fucking wrong, everything that just happened. He looked down to find the front of his shorts covered in a dark wet spot, his legs shining wetly, the toilet seat and the floor around it puddled with light yellow. His cock that was just recently throbbing for relief was already stiff and pulsating, clear against the wet fabric.

“Good boy,” Randy mumbled to him with a pat on the head. “Now. We have a show to do. Get your gear on and get ready, hm?”

“Yeah. Yeah...” Seth started tugging at the waistband of his shorts again, ready to get his wet clothes off and into the shower. His breath caught in his throat as Randy stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

“No. Those stay on.”

~

Perfect. Seth Rollins was absolutely perfect. Randy understood why he was chosen by the Authority to be their own personal lap dog, as well as his, eventually. Seth fumed and blushed throughout his entrance into the arena proper, in waiting for Randy to come out for their tag match, silently seething but trying to conceal it as much as he possibly could.

The fact that his pleather wrestling pants concealed the dampness in his shorts underneath... Could have fooled Randy. Seth looked like he'd just wet himself in front of the whole world, and as if it had turned him on more than he'd ever been in his life. 

Randy glanced over his shoulder as he held a dazed Dean Ambrose in his arms, finding Seth staring at him. His mouth hung open, his eyes bleary, Seth was bent over the ropes and panting, his hand thrust forward for the tag.

Ever the professional, Seth Rollins. 

Randy nodded and backed up, tagging Seth in as he slammed Dean to the turnbuckle. Once out of the ring and able to watch the proceedings, Randy found himself having to conceal one hell of a smirk. Even as Seth lost control of the match, falling victim to one of Dean's famous misdirections, Randy couldn't help but smile. 

This was it. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. 

He knew it was coming the moment Seth rolled over onto his stomach in the middle of the ring after a brutal slingshot lariat. Dean straddled over Seth's prone body and grabbed a fistful of his hair.

Randy let out a small gasp and covered his mouth with his shoulder, pretending to be reaching out for his tag partner. No going back now... not for Seth. He knew Seth was so worked up from before that it wouldn't take much, and with what he'd heard... boy, did Seth like getting his hair pulled by the women he took back to his hotel room.

He watched as Seth's head was pulled back by his hair. It didn't take very much at all. Barely anything. 

And then it was all over.

Randy recognized the hitch of Seth's hips, the moan from his lungs, which to outsiders might appear to be nothing more than just a reaction to the pain. But Seth's crotch ground into the canvas, his thighs twitched, his hands scrambled against the mat, futilely.

To the knowledge of Randy Orton alone, Seth Rollins began coming in his pants, live, on national television, in front of an audience of thousands.

Seth Rollins, golden boy of the Authority, future forerunner of the business, collapsed in the afterglow as Dean let go of his hair, having been stopped by the referee after a four-count for him to break the hold.

Randy's chest swelled as he watched Seth try to crawl away for the tag, only to be grasped in another hold. He imagined it was very hot, very wet, and now very sticky inside of those tight pants. And all because of his guidance.

Coming back to the Authority certainly had its perks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA WOW. Okay this took way too friggin' long. When did I start this, about a year ago? Holy shit. Well god damn, thanks for stickin' with it, people. This is honestly a piece I really think turned out well, so I'd like to thank the anonymous user at the Kink Meme for suggesting it and letting me run with that idea.
> 
> Onto the next one, eh?


End file.
